


Happy Birthday Cas

by BrandiChampane



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fallen Castiel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 03:00:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/857005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrandiChampane/pseuds/BrandiChampane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas recounts the candles because the Winchester’s calculations are wrong, Jimmy is much older than four years of age, that he is sure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Birthday Cas

**Author's Note:**

> Just a ficlet

The clock ticks to midnight while Cas watches six small flames dance in front of him. With the kitchen lights dimmed, the dance is mesmerizing. He squints his eyes at the small pastry before him, tries to think of why anyone would stick small flames in it. He recalls the time at the nursing home, the candles acted as dynamite causing an explosion of pink icing. This is not the same though; Kevin, Sam, and even Dean gather around him with flickering smiles.  
Sam and Dean had rushed in with the groceries that morning, Dean escaping to his room with a particular bag only to return without it. Cas tried to help put them away, grabbed at a bag near his feet only to have Sam swat him away. Had he done something wrong? Instead, Kevin guided him to the living room where they watched a documentary on popular violinists, Kevin’s choice. Not that Cas minded, he liked the soothing sounds.  
The orchestra soothes the worries in his mind. He is sure Sam and Dean mean no harm, but he just wanted to help in the small way he can. He may not be able to mend wounds to heal the blind but he can put away groceries. It’s the little things Cas takes pride in these days and the Winchesters know. They find him menial tasks they could easily do on their own because it gives Cas a purpose. From watering the small yet blooming garden, to repairing broken chair legs, Cas has purpose. He refocuses on the television and tries to push away the thought of this being his last day in the bunker.  
Throughout dinner, Dean refuses to let Cas cook, makes him play a board game with Kevin. The game is called Life and Cas scoffs at the thought of life being as simple as picking up a card or rolling a pair of dice. His own life has had tougher trials apart from living in a small complex and having too many kids to fit in a plastic van. No, he has lost brothers, sisters, attacked his own family and caused their fall from grace. He finds himself lost in his thoughts and Kevin has to move his piece to read the space for him. He picks up the van and moves it back a space. The game progresses slowly, between losing jobs and having too many children, Kevin and Cas both find themselves moving backwards more than forewords.  
Getting a handle on the game rules, Cas finds he cannot shake the nagging thought that he should be doing. Cas may not be a culinary chef but he can cook, he can learn. He bites his lip and chokes back his own discomfort. He knows he messed up when he returned to heaven, when he followed Metatron blindly, but it’s been so long now since the angels fell, since he fell. Maybe they took pity on him, want to prepare him for a life on his own before dumping his bag and locking the door. Cas shakes his head because Dean still lets him share his pillow when the lights go out.  
Eventually, the smell of burgers wafts into the room and the game pieces get tossed aside and forgotten. Cas is surprised, to say the least, when he walks into a kitchen decorated in cheap streamers and a banner with his name scribbled in sharpie at the tail end. Happy Birthday Cas, he reads. He tries to piece it together because this is Jimmy’s vessel and he does not age, not really. But his grace is gone and this is his, he is aging, he eats, his hair grows, he is human. Something in the back of his mind tells him that today is not his birthday; Jimmy was born on a different day, stopped aging years ago.  
Cas recounts the candles because the Winchester’s calculations are wrong, Jimmy is much older than six years of age, that he is sure. He squints his eyes at the neatly writing script before him, amazing what humans can create with icing. He is sure he has observed a birthday before, knows he should blow the candles out but he cannot work the air out of his lungs. Not with the thoughts of Sam and Dean leaving him in the back of his mind.  
A palm presses to him back; he can feel the warmth through Dean’s old shirt as he can feel the heat from the melting candles. He feels the ghost of a breath on the back of his neck and just barely hears Dean tell him to blow them out. He’s choking, using the table to steady himself and no matter how roughly he inhales him lungs won’t fill. His legs strain under his own weight but Dean is there to keep him standing, holding on while he tries to get a grip. His eyes scan the room to meet worried eyes of the people that care about him.  
Six, the number six, not an incorrect judgment on Jimmy’s age, no, the number of years the Winchesters have known Cas. The number of years he has been a part of his family. This is a surprise, a present to the angel that destroyed the whole garrison, cast out a whole species. A present to the man that thought he could be God but in the end ruined it all. He is the plastic game piece that can old slide backwards and these humans still manage to care. He can feel a tear roll down his cheek and wipes it away before it can damage the cake.  
After wiping his eyes, he takes an unsteady breath and blows out the candles. The light fades just before Kevin flicks them on again. Dean rubs circles in his back and asks him if he is okay. Cas just nods because he can’t find his voice, lost it with his breath. But he is smiling, that twitch of his lips is enough to keep the mood alive.  
Same cuts the cake in neat squares, except for one large slice Dean practically begs for. Cas wants to eat so he does but the sugar sits uneasy in his stomach so he gives the rest to Dean. While Sam and Kevin rest through their sugar comas, Dean drags Cas to his room. The sheets are neater than he remembers them from this morning means Dean has cleaned for him. The air is a fresh artificial scent from a febreeze bottle. Cas’ smile widens and his cheeks begin to hurt.  
Dean pulls a small box from his nightstand and forces it into Cas’ hands. Cas hesitantly lifts the soft lid to reveal a silver ring. It is just a simple band but Cas doesn’t mind, he knows they hold more in unspoken words than worth. Dean shifts uncomfortably until he is sitting on the bed in front of Cas. He focuses on the task of untying his shoelaces while he talks to Cas.  
“I saw it at a store, it’s not much I know, but it’s real silver. If anything you can use it keep a shifter off your ass.” He coughs and drops the first boot to the floor. “You know I don’t chick flick moments, but I mean-Cas. Just don’t go anywhere, okay.” He drops the second boot and starts to shimmy out of his clothes.  
Cas rolls the band in his hand and squints to read the inscription, I need you, fit just within. Cas slips it onto his finger and smiles so wide he thinks his face with split. No matter what trials are thrown their way, Dean will always be there to scoop up the remains to and put Cas back together. When the angels fell, it was Dean who took Cas in, cleaned him up, fed him and his need to fix. All the while Dean was trying to fix Cas, let him know that he is the missing puzzle piece in this game and no matter how worn out the puzzle gets their pieces will always slide gently together and lock in place.  
Cas wraps his arms around Dean’s neck and holds on as if he would float away. The angle is uncomfortable so Cas slides into his lap. He can feel Dean smile into his neck while he admires the bit of silver on his finger. Dean rubs a hand up Cas’ back and sets a comforting rhythm.  
“Happy birthday, Cas.”


End file.
